


In the Cold

by TheStrange_One



Series: Angel's Adventures [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Freezing, Starving, animal butchery, blizzard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22279729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrange_One/pseuds/TheStrange_One
Summary: Arachne gets dropped in the middle of a blizzard, and takes shelter with a native.
Series: Angel's Adventures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603660
Kudos: 8





	In the Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Erica45](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erica45/gifts).



> Warning! I go into detail about the killing and butchering of an animal. DO NOT read if that freaks you out. Also: This isn't Spideypool. This is Arachne, an original character.
> 
> I also meant to get this story up as a New Year's present, but as you can see I failed by half a month. Sorry for the delay, and look! I wrote it anyway! I hope you like it.

Arachne stepped through the portal—and dropped into snow, sharp wind cutting through her body. She desperately wrapped her wings around herself for warmth, but the wind cut right through them, chilling her to her core. Ice surrounded her feet—which were bare _again_. Why? She’d been wearing shoes when she’d stepped through the portal…

A sneeze alerted her to another presence near her and she floundered through the thick snow until she saw the covered, shaking figure.  The dark brown cloak covering the figure stood out in stark relief between drifts of snow that were swiftly obscuring it. “Are you all right?” Arachne asked as she waded through the thick snow towards the figure.

The figure gave a low, rasping cough. That wasn’t good. “Just eat me and get it over with bear,” the figure wheezed.

“One,” Arachne said as she knelt in the (freezing!) snow and helped the person up, “not a bear. Two, don’t eat humans. Is there shelter nearby? You’ll freeze.” And so was Arachne. Despite her truly awesome healing ability, she was losing feeling in her hands and feet.

“Up ahead,” the figure said.

Time to use that super strength she’d inherited to haul through the drifting snow. Oh, that snow was cold! It leached the heat out of and was even frosting her leotard with ice!  She didn’t think that was possible!

Arachne found the house—by slamming into it. “It might be easier to use to the door,” commented her burden snidely.

For just one moment Arachne considered dropping the bundle in the snow to freeze and stealing the warm home.

No, that would be wrong. And if she hadn’t been so cold and tired she never would have even  _thought_ it. Arachne groped the wall until she found the door, opened it, and took the both of them inside closing the door against the elements behind them. Safe.

There was a blazing fire crackling not far from her.  The heat made her body prickle as the ice melted from her armor and she sank to the floor as she felt tiny stabbing pains in her hands and feet. It wasn’t something she could force her body to heal, either. “I have never been so cold.”

The figure snorted and started shrugging off layers. “You shouldn't have shed your winter coat.”

“I am not a bear.” The response was almost perfunctory at that point as her eyes began to waver shut.

“Shush. You got us both to warmth. Sleep.”

Arachne could do nothing else.

Fortunately, the old woman Arachne was sharing the place with had a spare pair of shoes that Arachne could wear. Especially fortunate, seeing as how the old woman kept sending her out for more firewood.  Of course, Arachne wasn’t under the same restrictions that the old woman had.  To her shock, the woman was blind.

That didn’t mean she was incompetent, however. “Don’t leave that door open more than you have to,” the old woman said grimly as Arachne entered with firewood.

“I’m not,” Arachne said as she closed the door, firewood still in her hands. Times like this she blessed her super strength and inherent stickiness. She tucked her bare foot back into the fur shoe and made her way to the fire to deposit the wood.

“Humph.” The old woman didn’t seem to believe her—or acknowledge that her warning hadn’t actually been necessary. “How was the hunting?”

“Blizzard is still going on,” Arachne said as she added wood to the fire. Some of the wood she lay beside the fire to dry off.

The old woman makes a noise. “This damn blizzard has lasted far too long,” she gripes. “We’re running low on food.”

Arachne winced. She’d been eating as little as possible, to avoid using up the woman’s stores,  but she still had to eat. The old woman, despite her attitude, didn’t seem to mind that Arachne was eating.

The woman sighed. “Get some snow, Bear.”

“Not a bear,” Arachne replied as she grabbed the giant pot above the hearth and stepped outside again to shovel as much snow into it as she could. She packed the fluffy stuff down as much as possible before hauling it back into the hut.

Never before had Arachne’s muscles ached so badly. Her body had always been able to repair any damage almost instantly—but she was coming to the end of her resources. She knew she had to eat something soon—but there was nothing to eat.

“Pity you’re the only bear here.”

“Not a bear.” The protest is almost automatic.

“Bears are good food. They last for weeks, especially in this weather.” Arachne looked at the old woman as her wings mantled nervously. For the first time the hut seems claustrophobic and she wants to run—but there’s nowhere to go. “The fur is also good. Keeps people warm. Makes nice shoes.”

Just as Arachne is about to fly out into the blizzard one of the walls caves in around—a bear. And she gets a good look at why the old woman thought that she was a bear. In this world, this dimension, bears have wings. And feathers instead of fur. But still huge, sharp teeth and claws ready to rend and tear and kill—

Arachne knocked it out with a single blow to the head and, moving as quickly as she could (which was not as quick as she normally could) she fixed the wall to seal out the winter storm as much as possible as the old woman sat in her seat and nodded, blank eyes staring vacantly at the world before her. “Good,” the old woman said. “I thought one of those was sneaking around. They love breaking little huts like mine and eating the humans inside. Stop gawking! You’re going to help me butcher your kin.”

“Not a bear,” Arachne protested. She followed the old woman’s instructions, wincing at getting blood all over her armor. She couldn't risk letting Dora out in this cold—the slime didn’t handle these kind of temperatures well.

“No, fingers _under_ the skin,” the old woman ordered as she wielded the knife.

Arachne wanted to ask her how she managed this when she was alone—but at the same time she couldn't. Something in her, something Papa had warned her about, was stirring at the sight, the smell, the overwhelming  _power_ of the blood around her and her mouth was starting to water.

No. She was  _not_ going to just start licking the blood off herself and tearing into the raw meat. She’d seen what happened in that one universe when its Spiderman gave in. And if  _she_ did…

There would be no one to stop her. She was too powerful, so she had to stop herself.

“I can hear your stomach complaining its empty,” the woman said as she angled the head so the blood drained into one of the pots.

“Yours is too,” Arachne pointed out. She was slightly startled to see that the woman cut a half circle around the front legs of the bear—but it made sense, since they were also going to have to get the skin off the wings.

“True. This next bit takes some extra strength. You good with maiming a corpse of your own kind?”

“Again—not a bear.” The hardest part about this was position. Arachne may have been stronger than the average girl, but she was only so tall and only had two hands. She managed to reach inwards to get hold of the bear’s innards.

“Don’t let those guts rip now,” instructed the old woman. “We don’t want them spoiling the meat.”

Arachne simply grunted as she both held the bear up and ripped the organs out through the hole—straight into the blood pot.  The old woman grunted, felt into the pot and pulled out the entrails before stowing them in a bucket. Then she added some flour and salt to the pot before putting on the fire.

“That can’t be healthy,” Arachne protested as the woman took the bucket to the door and heaved the mess into the snow.

“Pity I can’t clean those intestines here,” the old woman said as she hobbled back into the hut. “I would love to make sausage.”

“Right.” Arachne looked at the bear corpse she was holding. “What’s next?”

“Next,” said the old woman as she held her knife, “we finish getting the skin off. _It’s_ not edible, and we can tan it later.”

Arachne wondered how much longer she was going to be stuck in this hut. “Okay,” she said dubiously. On the fire, the pot began to bubble slowly.

A hand smacked into the back of Arachne’s head. “No, you fool! Keep your tension even as you pull!”

“I _am_!” protested Arachne. The dough in her hands snapped when she tried to pull it. Again. “We could just cut these into squares and have dumplings,” Arachne suggested.

The old woman sniffed. “This is not  _dumpling_ dough, this is  _noodle_ dough.  Try again.”

Grumbling Arachne obeyed. After all, the old woman  _was_ feeding her. And sheltering her. And had given her clothes to wear over her all too susceptible to freezing armor.

Arachne’s eyes traced the tally marks on her wrist. The last one was starting to fade. The portal was about to open. She was about to  _leave_ .

She had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, she couldn't wait to get somewhere  _warm_ (this was the only world she’d gone to that was so  _cold_ ) and on the other—she didn’t want to leave the old woman here to fend for herself. “I’m about to go,” Arachne said firmly.

“Tell your bear friends I’ll eat them all if they attack me,” the old woman replied.

“Not a bear.” The protest was automatic. “Do you want to come with me?” she asked.

The old woman sniffed. “I,” she said with great dignity, “am human. I don’t think I can live where you’re going.”

Remembering some of the worlds that she’d been in, Arachne had to silently agree. “I don’t like leaving you here alone,” she protested.

The old woman sniffed disdainfully once again. “I was alone before you got here. I will be alone when you leave. And when the spring thaw comes I will tan the hide of my son for not coming up this winter like he promised.” The old woman’s face suddenly broke into a smile. “Besides,” she said warmly, “you’re leaving me with food. Are you sure you don’t want any to take with you?”

Arachne couldn't stomach the thought of eating more of the bear. “You gave me clothes,” she protested instead. “And shoes. Are you sure you don’t want them back?” She had no idea if the clothes would survive the portal. Shoes didn’t. Socks didn’t. But her armor was fine. Then again, her armor had been created by a dwarf. 

“You keep them. I have plenty. And with this food, I won’t have to leave until spring thaw.”

The portal opened in the air between them,  glowing pink light swirling to dark in the middle. Dr. Strange had said it was that color because that was her favorite color—never more so than at this moment. “Be safe,” Arachne advised before stepping through.

The incessant winds within the portal tugged at her being as she moved through it, gentle golden threads guiding her to the next portal. The next world. No way of knowing what she was going to see when she got there.

The portal opened onto a green world with golden sunlight and her bare toes sank into the grass as she immediately began to sweat under the thick fur she was wearing. “Seriously?” she demanded as she shucked the garments off and looked around at the green field, bordered by a forest on one side and a city on the other. “Why, in the name of all that is holy, are my shoes gone  _again_ ?”

“I think a better question would by why you are here,” a calm voice stated behind her. Arachne turned slowly. And blinked. Rubbed her eyes and blinked again.

There was a child before her, sitting on the largest spider she had ever seen. The bright red stripes stood out in stark contrast against the black body and the horn on its head tilted, every so slightly, to the side. No, the  _spider_ was tilting its head.

“That,” Arachne said, “has got to be the biggest spider I have ever seen.”

The spider reached out with one leg and let out an odd sound, almost like a chirping whine. The boy absently pat the spider and Arachne noticed how his eyes never moved from their forward position. The boy was blind.

“This is Drum. And he’s smaller than his sire. You see Spot. Do spiders not get this big where you’re from?”

Still staring at the giant spider before her Arachne said, “Nope. They don’t get bigger than a hand span where I’m from.”

The boy smiled at her. “Welcome to Arachne,” he said.


End file.
